


Mea Culpa

by tainry



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, PNP, Some angst, m/m - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 12:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5785171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tainry/pseuds/tainry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ironhide insists on apologizing for something he hasn’t actually done. Mirage just wants to shag him senseless before going out on patrol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mea Culpa

**Author's Note:**

> The track set on repeat during the writing of this fic was _Mea Culpa_ by Enigma. Hence the title.

Acid rain hissed and bubbled outside, eating away another layer of our world. Good thing there was a lot of inside to shelter in. 

My big, rough hand looked clumsy against his clean-lined, high-forged face. I was ashamed for having imagined beating that face in until the metal crumpled, and energon dripped, corrosive and violet from the cracks. Looking down, I let my hand follow, fingertips trailing, down to the sigil, tracing its outlines. In my mind I’d pounded that in, too, erasing a badge I’d thought Mirage didn’t deserve to wear. But Mirage was shallower-chested than most of us; a pounding like that maybe would have done for him. I was glad – now – that I’d somehow held my temper. 

“What are you doing?” Mirage murmured, head tilted slightly. His optics seemed brighter. Not sure if he was amused or something else. Blasted nobles and their stupid, complicated socio-emotional programming and manners. Made him hard to read, and who needed that at this time of the cycle?

“I’m trying to apologize.” As if that weren’t plain as Megatron’s ugly bucket. 

“Why? Your suspicion was no different than any of the others’.” There was an edge to the words. Not quite bitterness, but understandable anger. I fumbled for something to say that wasn’t a confession of what I’d meant to do, before. Something that would give us both a reason for why my hand was still on his chest. 

“Maybe.” Prime would have our afts for doubting each other after all we’d been through together. For so easily believing Decepticon lies. I brought my other hand up to touch his face again. The plating felt so thin. I knew to my core that I could kill him with my bare hands. But where would that leave me? No better than the slagging enemy. It wasn’t like me to imagine things in so much detail, to keep imagining them over and over. The feel of his neck beneath my foot. Maybe it was him, something about him I didn’t want to stop thinking about. Any excuse would do. Mirage leaned closer.

Been a long time - too long - since anyone had a kind word or touch for another. Even Sunny and Sides did nothing but snarl back and forth. Although. Come to it, that tight-node Prowl and Jazz had been getting on suspiciously well lately. Used to be they always pretty much torqued each other off. Maybe with Prime down they'd found a way to work together. More of us needed to do the same. 

This base Kup'd led us to was a right maze. Privacy wasn't the issue - but getting lost might be. All I wanted was a small space out of the way, out of casual sight. Mirage took the lead, opening a door behind a door I hadn't seen was there. He was a scout. Once inside - might've been a room or just the bend in a corridor, wasn't paying much attention - he didn't bother shutting the door behind us. Would've been embarrassing if we'd been locked in, though likely we could have blasted our way out. With a lot of noise. Not a great idea, with the Swarm on our heels. 

We fell at each other, savage-mouthed, vents hot, too busy digging fingers past armor to bother finding a wall, and slag how had he gotten at that intake rim so fast? His fingers were smaller than mine and pushed in further, where I didn’t think it’d be that sensitive. I had to shut down my vocal processors right quick, shuddering so hard my windshield rattled in its frame. Next thing, he was already slipping me a cable out his wrist. "Impatient young mech," I muttered, half grinning. 

"I am not so _very_ young," he said, jacking in expertly. I hardly felt it initiate, the connection was so smooth. 

“Compared to me…”

“Compared to you, I am not so young. Compared to Kup, however…”

We both laughed, keeping it quiet – laughing into each other’s mouths, turning it to rough kisses. He shoved his body at me, but through the cable I felt no aggression, only hunger. He was always a soft-spoken, almost a passive mech, but now he drank in my heat, my roused, mirrored passion. Drank me like he was starving. I put my thumb in his mouth to give my intakes a little room to get the cold air down to my engine. Optics glowing a brighter gold, he bit down gently, turning his head side-to-side, sliding his denta along the edges. The sensory inputs were small, but I felt the shock of them bolt up my arm and down through my core. We sank to our knees. 

Fancy positions don’t matter much. Long as one mech can reach the gaps in the other mech’s armor it don’t matter who’s facing which way. Unless you got cables and then you got to keep them from tangling or getting pulled out. Mirage, though, he wanted to see my face as his undiluted arousal shook me through the cable, wanted me to see his as my hands wandered over his sleek angles, kept rising up on his knees to kiss me. As fierce and hot as he was, he drew everything out, pushing us to the edge of overload then sliding away. He lifted his chin, enticing me to bite at his neck cables, his fingertips tracing the seams of my audials as I lowered my head to him. 

My optics weren't working right. We made no external sound - no more than we could help, leastways - but over the shielded internal comms, every sigh and moan, every endearment startled out of either of us flared and bloomed across my visual processors in colors so vivid I could taste them, like the rarest high-grade. Don't know how he got so far inside me. Don't know what he did...don't care. Don't know how a body can be unmade, unmeched, from within like that, and never want it to stop... 

Don’t know how long it was but finally he showed us mercy, slamming our fervor into feedback, half-melting the cable as we clawed our way down into overload. I was glad we were on the floor because it was a goodly while before I could stand again, equilibrial circuits shot to the Pit and back. 

He didn’t yank his cable right off, like most do. Instead, fluttering echoes streamed between us, faint but warm. He nuzzled weakly at my mouth, too drained for kisses. The air above us still wavered with our heat. 

After another time unmarked by my frazzled chronometer, he groaned and slid off me to his feet, graceful even as he staggered before his systems had properly rebooted. 

I glared at his offered hand. Pure habit. “Don’t need your help getting up.”

"I wasn’t implying that you did," he said, taking my hand anyway as I stood, pulling me tight up against him for another kiss, like after all we'd done he still wanted more. Kinda flattering. 

He drew away, reluctantly, seemed to me. “Blurr’s coming in to refuel,” he said. “I must take up his patrol.”

Occurred to me later, as I wandered back to where most of the others had gathered to wait things out, maybe Mirage should have refueled and recharged himself, instead of what we were doing. Before he went out there, where the Swarm was. 

 

Fin.


End file.
